Not Here
by Shezzi
Summary: The Doctor takes Rose to the one place he believes she can actually be safe, but is she? WARNING: Contains rather explicit NON CONSENSUAL situation! Don't say I didn't warn you!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi all! Hope you like! please leave reviews and let me know what you think! I do not own Doctor Who! That distinct honor belongs to the BBC and Russell T. Davies (and don't we all hate them for it?)

WARNING!! Non-consensual, rather graphic, disturbing situation depicted!! (Don't say I didn't warn you)

Please leave reviews and help me to keep this going! love xx Shezzi

"Here we are! Good old Earth, just the place for you to do a spot of shopping while I fix the old girl up. You can't fall thousands of feet into a planet's core without suffering some damage, can you, my lovely?" he crooned to the TARDIS.

Rose rolled her eyes at his behavior, but she really did need to do some shopping. She circled around the console to stand beside him and wrapped an arm around him, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"See you in a few hours, yeah?" she asked softly.

"I'll call. We can meet up and get chips," said the Doctor, grinning down at her before pressing a light kiss against her forehead.

Grinning up at him, Rose planted a quick kiss on his cheek before bouncing out the TARDIS doors.

DWDWDWDWDWDW

Rose wandered down the rather deserted street, waiting for the Doctor to phone. She glanced down at the bag in her hand, all the essentials for another month or so on the TARDIS, distilled into a few simple items: toothpaste, razors, shampoo, tampons, some new makeup...yeah, she had everything.

She thought back to their most recent adventure, remembering the words the Beast had spoken of her. 'So soon to die in battle,' she shuddered. So lost in her train of thought was she that she didn't notice the area she was walking through getting more rundown, the buildings shabbier, the street darker.

Suddenly, her arm was grabbed roughly from the side, and she was dragged forcefully into an alley. She struggled, trying to push off her attacker, and got flung into the wall for her troubles. Her head cracked against the brick, and stars burst in front of her eyes. She felt something warm running down her neck, and realized it was blood.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be walking alone at night. I'm helping to teach you to stay safe," hissed a voice in her ear. She tried to shove him away, but the blow to her head had scrambled her wits.

He chuckled at her pitiful efforts and pushed her to the ground, kneeling over her. She struck out with her fist and caught him on the chin, and he snarled angrily, catching one of her hands in his and forcing it above her head. Before he could catch the other she lashed out, raking her fingers down his cheek. Rising up slightly, he slapped her hard across the face, causing her head to knock once more against the pavement. He caught her free hand and pinned it with the other, even as his other hand traveled lower.

She whimpered when he brushed the skin just below the hem of her skirt lightly, then in a sudden move shoved it up around her hips.

She felt him, pulsing hotly against her thigh, and she writhed, trying to free herself. He shoved a knee between her legs, parting them forcefully, and she whimpered in fear. He grabbed her knickers and ripped them off her body, the cold air hitting her hard.

She screamed then, long and loud. "DOCTOR! HELP ME!"

With a snarl, her attacker backhanded her again, almost knocking her out with the force of the hit.

She lay, unable to resist, mumbling under her breath. "No…please, please stop…Doctor, where are you?"

The man leaned down and whispered in her ear, his fetid breath clogging her nose, "If it's a doctor you want, I'd be more than happy to examine you." He shoved upwards with his hips and roughly entered her, covering her mouth with his free hand to stifle her screams.

When he was finished, he stood over her still form, slightly curled around herself. "This is for punching me," he kicked her brutally in the stomach. "This is for scratching me," he kicked her in the chest hard enough that she felt and heard ribs crack, "And this, this is for being a filthy slut and bringing this on yourself." He kicked her in the side of the head, hard. She whimpered, and he laughed cruelly before turning and walking away, wiping his hands on a cloth he pulled from one of his pockets.

Rose shivered, it was cold, so cold. She couldn't think, it was cold and she hurt too much. Her head swam and throbbed. Where was the Doctor? Why didn't he come?

DWDWDWDWDWDWDW

The Doctor sat under the TARDIS console, completely absorbed. He had already fixed the major damage from the fall, but had been sidetracked by some connections that he just HAD to tinker with.

The TARDIS brushed against his mind, bringing him out of his reverie, and he realised it had been hours. He glanced at his watch and frowned. Five hours? FIVE? And Rose hadn't called him or come back? Something wasn't right about this. He grabbed the phone on the console and dialed, it rang shrilly in his ear for about thirty seconds before being diverted to message bank. Too worried now to be bothered leaving a message, the Doctor ran out the door, pulling out his sonic screwdriver as he went.

He quickly calibrated it to track her phone signal and ran through the dark streets towards her. Unlike Rose before him, he noticed the type of neighborhood it was, and his concern and fear spiked.

He was almost at the signal when he saw light glinting off plastic – Rose's cell phone. It was lying on the ground, open and oddly forlorn looking.

The Doctor's hearts stopped. He ran to the phone, grabbing it off the ground. He was standing up when he heard it. So soft that if it had been anyone else they wouldn't have heard it, it was a combination moan and sob.

He turned, feeling as if he was moving in slow motion. The pale moonlight that filtered down between the buildings, just barely illuminating the scene. Rose was leaning against a wall, surrounded by rubbish, her skirt torn, her face bruised. Almost before he saw her, he was running, dropping to his knees beside her.

"Rose? Rose, can you hear me?" he took her face gently between his hands, carefully studying the bruising pattern. She was cool to the touch, but breathing. He drew his hand away when he felt the tacky wetness on her neck, and swore violently when he saw the blood.

"Doctor?" whispered Rose, her voice cracking.

"I'm here, Rose, I'm right here," he said softly, squeezing her hand gently in his.

"It hurts, Doctor," she whispered, the words slurred.

"Hold on, sweetheart. I'm gonna get you home," he told her softly, wrapping her in his jacket and carefully lifting her in his arms.

"No, please," she whispered, terror filling her voice.

"Rose, I have to. I can't help you here," he told her, tried to explain.

"Not home! What would I say to mum?" asked Rose, terrified.

"Oh, Rose," breathed the Doctor, realising what she thought. "I meant home to the TARDIS," he explained softly.

She relaxed slightly at his words, her head leaning against his shoulder. He felt her tears soaking into his shirt, and held her closer, pulling the jacket more firmly around her.

He ran back through the streets, cursing himself for a fool. He had been too preoccupied to notice the passage of time, to realise that something was wrong, and she had been hurt because of it, hurt on the one planet where he had truly felt it was safe to let her go out alone.

Rose curled in the Doctor's arms, the pain in her body immense. She knew he felt guilty and wanted to alleviate it, but didn't know what to say. It wasn't his fault but she didn't know how to convince him of that fact. She moaned in pain when he accidentally jostled her, and he apologised swiftly.

"Nearly there," he whispered soothingly as he carefully unlocked the doors to the TARDIS. He carried her inside and went straight to the medlab, which the TARDIS had moved to be right next to the control room.

He carefully set her down on the examination couch and stepped back slightly, taking a good look at her for the first time. She was covered in bruises, the ones that caught his attention the most decorated her inner thighs. Rage burned in his hearts at what those bruises told him of what had been done to her.

"Oh, Rose," he whispered softly.

"Doctor," groaned Rose, trying to turn her head towards him, but stopped with a whimper of pain.

He immediately stepped up beside her. "I'm here, sweetheart, I'm right here. Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," she whimpered.

The Doctor reached up to a shelf and grabbed something. "Breathe through this, Rose," he told her, placing the medicine whistle between her lips. "It'll help with the pain."

Rose sucked greedily, the penthrane quickly numbing the pain.

The Doctor waited until her face relaxed slightly, then cupped her cheek gently with his palm.

"Rose, I have to examine you, so I can see what needs fixing," he told her softly. Her eyes met his, trust and pain in equal measure, and his hearts almost broke. She nodded slightly, once, and lay back, breathing deeply through the whistle.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: New chapter! Hope you enjoy! Still dark, it's actually the first of this type of fic that i've published, so please review and let me know what you think! just to reiterate: only the plot is mine, everything else belongs to other people! and WARNING: DARK IMAGERY AND NON CONSENSUAL SITUATION!!

The Doctor took Rose's head gently in his hands, running his fingers carefully over her skull. He felt the split in her scalp over a large bump just above her left ear, and another just behind her right temple. There was a smaller lump on the back of her head where he assumed she had hit her head on the ground at some point, as the skin was abraded and filled with little pieces of gravel and dirt.

He laid her head gently back against the pillow and picked up a pen light, checked her pupil reactions. Her face was one big bruise, puffy and various shades of purple and blue. Her pupils were, as he had suspected, sluggish and slightly different sizes, betraying her concussion.

He put the pen light in his pocket and moved his hands down, carefully feeling her neck, sighing in relief when he confirmed what he had felt in the alley – no spinal damage. Of course, he was going to have to take scans to confirm all of this, but for now, it would do.

He took down a pair of scissors and carefully cut up one sleeve of Rose's blouse through the collar, then the other, lifting the stained, torn cloth gently away from her body. He scowled when he saw the bruising on her ribs, but quickly schooled his face back to loving concern. He glanced up at Rose, who was watching him, her eyes glazed, the medicine whistle held firmly between her lips.

He smiled gently at her, trying to convey all his love and promises to take care of her in that one expression. Looking back down he ghosted his fingers gently over the swelling, so lightly, and he could feel the breaks. Not just cracked ribs, but fully broken ones, several of them slightly displaced.

He lowered his hand to her abdomen, gently palpating. Seeing the bruises and knowing she had been hit with enough force to break ribs had him worried about the very real possibility that she had internal injuries. She stiffened suddenly, flinching away from his gently probing fingers, and he immediately apologized.

"Sorry, Rose, sorry, I know it hurts," he said, gently brushing a lock of hair back from her face. "I have to," he told her, his eyes conveying how much he hated this, hated hurting her, hated that it was necessary. "If something is wrong and I don't find it, it could kill you, all right?" he held her gaze with his. He returned to the area, carefully palpating it before moving on to the next quadrant.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found only tenderness, no rigidity or guarding, although he knew that that could simply mean a slower forming injury.

He could see that, apart from bruising and abrasions, her legs were fine, and he gently removed the last remains of her torn skirt.

She shivered, and he pulled a blanket from the warmer on the wall, tucking it gently around her.

"Rose, I'm going to run some scans now," he told her, waiting until she acknowledged his words.

He pulled the scanner around the bed and positioned it carefully, then carefully adjusted the settings. It buzzed, then various screens lit up. He turned it so he could stand where he could see her and read the screens at the same time.

The results scrolled across the screen, faster than any human eye would have been able to follow, and the Doctor frowned fiercely.

She did have four broken ribs, two of them displaced, a cracked cheek bone and a hairline fracture to the skull. There was no apparent intra-cranial bleeding though, for which he was grateful. He turned his attention to the scan of her internal organs and frowned. There was some fluid collecting in Morrison's pouch, around her liver, that he would need to keep an eye on but that may well correct itself.

She had a severe concussion from repeated blows to the head, which was what concerned him the most at the moment. He turned to the cabinets and started pulling out medications. There was one check he had left to do, the one he didn't want to, but it was necessary. He didn't want to do it while she was conscious, but he couldn't knock her out until he had taken care of the concussion.

"Rose, I've got to set your ribs before I can do anything else. I've got some medicine that will help them heal faster, in about a week instead of four or five, but that's not going to help if they aren't healing right. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, but this is going to hurt."

Rose swallowed hard and nodded her acceptance. She winced at the pain this caused in her head and started to close her eyes.

Seeing her lids start to lower, the Doctor brought a gentle hand to her cheek. "Rose, you can't fall asleep right now, I need you to stay awake. You've got a concussion, you mustn't fall asleep right now, understand?" She stared at him, her eyes slightly glazed, then gave the tiniest nod possible.

The Doctor grabbed one of the smaller pieces of equipment, similar in shape to the sonic screwdriver and held it up where Rose could see it. "This will help with the bruising and the swelling, it won't heal it completely but it will speed the healing up dramatically. What I wouldn't give for some nanogenes," he muttered under his breath. "If I speed up the healing too much it can actually kill you, because your body doesn't have the resources necessary to fuel the healing." He kept speaking, flowing from topic to topic randomly as his hands worked.

Rose stiffened at the pain in her chest and struggled to control her breathing. The Doctor was talking, and she latched onto the sound of his voice like a drowning man would grab hold of a rope. He wasn't making much sense, but she wasn't sure if that was what he was saying or her own inability to understand.

Rose had locked her eyes on his face, and didn't seem to be paying any attention to what his hands were doing, which the Doctor thought was probably a good thing. He finished healing the bruising and laid his hand carefully over the area, feeling the ribs pressed unnaturally against the skin. Carefully, oh, so carefully, he applied pressure at just the right place and angle to shift them back where they belonged, his other hand holding Rose's shoulder firmly against the bed to keep her from fighting him.

Rose cried out at the pain blooming in her chest, and instinctively tried to move away from the Doctor's cold fingers. He held her pinned on the bed with one hand while the other pressed against her ribs. Suddenly he released the pressure on her ribs, and most of the pain from them stopped. She took a slow breath, and was startled to taste tears on her lips. The Doctor grabbed a tissue and gently wiped them away.

"I'm sorry, but it had to be done," he told her gently. He picked up the medicine whistle, which had fallen beside her head when she yelled, and placed it back at her lips.

"Thank you," Rose whispered, eyes swimming with more tears. She breathed in short, jagged gasps, and the tears ran from the corners of her eyes and disappeared into her hair at her temples, now that she wasn't thrashing her head to try and escape the pain. The Doctor cupped her cheek gently, smoothing the tears away with his thumb, then turned slightly and grabbed an IV kit.

"This will speed up the healing of your ribs, and your skull, and this one will take care of the concussion," he told her softly as he swabbed her arm and gently inserted the syringe. He also hung a bag of saline and a pack of morphine on a slow drip. He had avoided it earlier because he was worried about it making her drowsy, but she couldn't keep using the penthrane for much longer without risking the side affects.

Taking up the tool he had used to reduce the bruises and swelling on her ribs, he turned it carefully on her abdomen, then her legs and her arms. He came to her face and head last, the whole time keeping up his meaningless prattle. "You don't need this anymore," he told Rose, taking the whistle gently from between her lips. "I put up some morphine, it should have kicked in enough now."

"It has," she whispered softly. She could feel herself shaking slightly, whether she was shivering from the cold or from nerves she wasn't sure. The Doctor was running his tool over her face, frowning slightly in concentration even as he kept up an even, smooth flow of nonsense. He held the tool over one side of her head, then over the other. "I have to clean the back of your head before I can do anything else," he told her softly.

"Okay," Rose replied, her trust and acceptance tearing the Doctor's hearts. This was his fault, he had let her go out where he thought it was safe when he should have known it wasn't, he had lost track of time and not checked on her earlier.

Rose lay quietly and tried to stop the tears that ran from her eyes. She felt so dirty, and stupid. This was all her fault, she had been asking for it, wandering through such a bad area of the town. She had brought this on herself. She gave a slight gasp at the sting of the antiseptic the Doctor was using to clean her head, but forced herself to relax.

Once he had treated everything else, the Doctor sat down beside her, taking one of her hands, with its chipped and torn nails, in his. "Rose," he spoke softly, his tone completely serious. The medicine was working and her head was clearing of the fog that had clouded her mind. She focused on him, slightly nervous with how serious he was being. "I'm sorry, but I have to know. Did he use a condom?"

Rose swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She thought back, and suddenly she wasn't in the medbay, she was in alleyway and the man was on top of her, his hands pinning her down as his hot breath filled her nostrils and he slammed himself into her again and again. She screamed, but couldn't get any noise out around his hand. She tried to bite him, the pull her arms free, to kick but she couldn't. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

When Rose stiffened, the Doctor realised immediately what he had inadvertently done. Her first scream tore his hearts in two, and as she started to thrash, he was forced to pin her down to keep her from hurting herself, from displacing her ribs or hitting her head.

She fought him fiercely, as he tried to get a hand free, to reach her face and touch her temple. He finally managed it, and pressed his finger there lightly, entering her mind and radiating comfort and peace. He found himself standing in the alleyway, looking down at Rose and the man who had hurt her. "Rose! Rose, it's a memory, I need you to come back to me now," he called to her, pulling as much love and warmth around him as possible to counteract the pain and hate.

Rose slowly quieted, her breathing returning to normal, as she pulled herself out of the memory. Once he was satisfied she was clear of it for now, the Doctor gently withdrew from her mind, and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, Rose," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

"'S'not your fault," she mumbled. "I was stupid, brought it on myself."

The Doctor gaped, unable to comprehend that she truly believed that. "No, Rose, you didn't bring this on yourself! No one does, that's just the excuse that the people who do this kind of thing use, 'They brought it on themselves', or 'she was asking for it'. It's not true," he insisted, trying to make her hear him.

"And to answer your question, no, he didn't use a condom," Rose told him, her tone tired, almost defeated.

The Doctor closed his eyes, sighing softly. "I can give you something, make sure nothing happens," he told her softly.

"You mean...you don't think...oh god, I'm gonna be sick!"

The Doctor quickly helped Rose to roll onto her side, holding a container under her chin as she heaved. He brushed her hair back from her face and grabbed a cool cloth, wiping it over her forehead and cheeks. She finally stopped heaving, and the Doctor eased her back around and onto the pillows.

"Thanks," Rose whispered, her eyelids drooping.

Glancing at the IV's the Doctor saw that the concussion medicine had run through. He had to talk to her before she fell asleep, though. "Rose? I need you to stay with me for just another minute, then you can sleep. I...I need to check, and see if he injured you...inside, do you understand?" the Doctor struggled to get the words out, to explain to Rose what he needed to do.

"Wha'?" asked Rose, uncertain.

The Doctor sighed through clenched teeth. "I need to do a pelvic exam, to make sure he didn't damage you internally," he explained as clinically as he could.

"Oh," she said softly, staring at him.

"I was waiting until you could be asleep, you don't need to be awake for this," he told her, and she nodded, her expression slightly lost.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand. "I hate the idea as much as you do," he told her gently. "I wouldn't...but it's necessary," he told her, and she nodded slightly, stiffly. "I'll get you something," he said, and stood, moving to the medicine cabinet. He fumbled through the contents for a moment, and found the vial he was looking for.

Taking it and a syringe, he returned to the bed. He drew up the dosage and carefully injected it into the piggy-back port on the IV tubing. He took Rose's hand and stroked it with his thumb. "Sleep, Rose. Dream sweet dreams," he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple as her eyelids flickered and closed.

As soon as she was out, the Doctor was all business. He grabbed a gown and dressed Rose in it before removing the blankets, then set up poles on either side of the bed with stirrups. Gently, he lifted her legs, fastening soft-lined buckles around her ankles to hold her them up. He dropped the end of the bed down, so that it ended where her bottom sat, then pulled over the tray of instruments. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and started working.

When he finished, the Doctor gently unhooked Rose's legs and arranged her neatly on the bed, tucking an extra blanket around her, before standing and walking into the adjoining bathroom and emptying his stomach violently.

Rose had been a mess; tearing, bruising...and he hadn't been small, the Doctor could tell. Her cervix had been badly bruised, as he had clearly pounded against it again and again, and her vaginal walls torn where he had dragged against her without any kind of lubricant, either manufactured or produced by her body.

The Doctor coughed once more into the toilet, then stood, flushing it, and went to the sink. He splashed water on his face, then rinsed his mouth and spat the water back into the sink. He exited the bathroom and sat down beside Rose, determined not to leave her alone.


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor sat beside the infirmary bed, watching Rose sleep. The bruising on her face was painful to look at, but he refused to allow himself to look away. He had caused this, with his thoughtlessness, with his inattention. If he had been thinking, even the tiniest bit, about the time, he would have realised how long it had been and called her earlier, before she had the opportunity to wander into danger.

His ninth self had been right, jeopardy friendly was definitely a good description of Rose, he thought as he leaned forward to check her pulse quickly. It was fine, but her skin was a little cool, so he grabbed another blanket and gently tucked it around her. He took her hand in his and sat, gently stroking the smooth skin.

He ran a hand over his face, realising how tired he was. The TARDIS hummed, and he turned to see a cupboard swing open, displaying a kettle and tea things. Carefully setting Rose's hand on the blanket, the Doctor stood and made his way over, quickly preparing a cuppa before crossing back to her bedside. "Thanks, old girl," he whispered softly, and the TARDIS bumped his mind affectionately.

He sat, sipping his tea and watching Rose breathe. After about half an hour, he stood and pulled the scanner over again, rechecking for internal injuries. The fluid around the liver was still present, but hadn't increased in volume, so he wasn't going to worry about it, at least not yet. He put the scanner back and just sat, watching Rose.

He began to turn plans over in his head. He wanted to kill the man who had done this, to pummel him and make him hurt like he had hurt Rose. However, he didn't want to force Rose to face him, in fact he didn't want her anywhere near the monster. He ran through in his mind the various tortures he had become acquainted with in his 900 years of life.

Suddenly, Rose shifted slightly on the bed, moaning softly.

"Rose?" the Doctor said quietly, taking her hand in his again. At his touch, she sighed and quieted, relaxing back against the pillow, and he smiled sadly. One of her nails caught on his skin, and he glanced down. They were torn, and she would have to cut them, but there was something...yes, there was skin under her nails, skin that didn't belong to her.

Holding her hand in one of his, he turned and grabbed a toothpick and a petri dish, he quickly scraped a sample from under her fingernails.

He opened a small fridge and set the dish inside to deal with later. He now had what he needed to track this guy down, and he sat back beside Rose, watching her sleep and turning over plans for justice in his mind.

Finally, he turned his thoughts to another track. He needed somewhere for Rose to relax and heal; somewhere beautiful and isolated, so he wouldn't have to worry about how she dealt with crowds yet. He smiled suddenly; he knew just the right place, perfect for rest, relaxation and recuperation.

"When you wake up," he whispered to Rose, "I'm going to take you to the most beautiful beach in the universe." He settled back in the seat, grateful he had moved some comfortable ones into the infirmary, and watched her sleep.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

Rose stirred slowly, feeling herself waking up. She ached fiercely, with several high points; her ribs, head and lower abdomen. She also had a rather pressing need, one that pushed her to try and sit up. She found herself restrained, not only by the pain that sprang up the instant she tried, but also by a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes opened fully and she looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" asked the Doctor gently, and memory returned with a rush.

The Doctor saw Rose start to move and stood instantly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder to restrain her. "Hey, where do you think you're going?" he asked softly, not entirely sure if she was awake or attempting to sleep walk, as stressed humans seemed to be prone to doing.

"Need to use the bathroom," Rose muttered, shifting slightly under his hand.

"I already know that there's no way you're up to leaving that bed, so it's no use pretending," the Doctor told her firmly. "I'll get you a bedpan," he added, tone forbidding argument.

Rose grimaced, but allowed it. The Doctor helped her to lift her hips, sliding the pan in. Once she was finished, the Doctor gently cleaned her up and removed the pan. He took a sample of the urine and set it aside to analyse, and set the rest in the 'disposal' unit for the TARDIS to take care of.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Rose, who was watching him through half closed eyes. She attempted to shrug, but gave it up with a pain-filled wince.

"Bit sore," she replied softly, in answer to his raised eyebrow.

"Bit?" asked the Doctor, raising his other eyebrow to join its mate.

Rose pressed her lips together, glaring at him.

"One to ten, Rose, how do you rate it?" he asked, watching her face. She thought about lying, he could tell, but finally rolled her eyes.

"I don't know, seven?" she replied, her head rolling back on the pillow.

"I'll get you something," he smiled gently down at her and turned to a cabinet, pulling out a fresh morphine drip. One of the things with the medications he had given her; he knew how long it would take for complete healing, but he had no idea fast the process would go. He had therefore opted not to put up any more pain meds until she was conscious and could tell him how bad it was or wasn't.

He hung the medicine, then carefully helped her to sit up, putting extra pillows behind her and raising the head of the bed for support.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, eyeing her carefully to be sure that her new position wasn't causing an increase in pain.

"'m thirsty," she admitted softly, eyes dropping to the bedspread,which she was picking at with nervous fingers.

"I'll just go and get something from the kitchens then. You should probably try and eat too," he told her, squeezing her hand gently before leaving the room.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

Left alone, Rose sat and tried not to think about anything. She focused on the checks on the blanket, tracing her finger in a figure eight pattern around two of them. She tried to push everything else out of her mind, when she caught a whiff of foul smelling breath, and heard a cruel whisper echoing in the room.

"I'm just teaching you to stay safe," the voice hissed, and she whimpered, eyes darting, trying to see where it was coming from.

A movement near the door caught her eye, and she stared in horror as 'he' stepped into the room, eyes gleaming malevolently through a mane of filthy, greasy hair.

In panic, she pushed herself up, off the bed, ripping the IV line out of her arm as she propelled herself off the side of the bed away from the door. She made it two steps before collapsing, the pain overpowering her. She screamed, clutching her ribs, as he approached, his mouth twisting in a sneer.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

The Doctor poured a glass of juice while the toast was cooking, and grabbed a couple of different spreads so she could decide for herself. He was just grabbing the toast when he heard her scream. Dropping it on the kitchen bench, he ran out of the room and down the corridor to the infirmary.

He swung around the door, eyes wide as he tried to see what was going on. The bed was empty, the IV hanging loose, the morphine dripping onto the floor. "Rose?" he called softly, approaching the bed carefully. He knew she couldn't have gotten far, a suspicion that was confirmed when he heard her whimpering.

He came around the bed and stopped momentarily. Rose was collapsed on the floor, legs pulled up as high as possible, arms locked around her knees.

"Oh, Rose," whispered the Doctor, crouching down and approaching slowly. "Rose, come on," he called, reaching out and touching her shoulder gently. She flinched away, her arm flailing wildly. "Rose, it's me. It's the Doctor. I'm here, you're safe." Worried that she was going to hurt herself, he caught her wrists and held them carefully in one hand, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against his side.

"I'm here, Rose. I'm right here," he whispered to her, rocking her gently as he rubbed her arm.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

A hand grabbed Rose's shoulder and she struck out blindly, her panic overpowering her mind. She flailed wildly, until her hands where caught and held together, and another arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her firmly. A voice spoke softly, calmly, a sense of vague recognition washed through her, bringing calm in its wake, and she slowly relaxed.

Feeling Rose's body relaxing against his, the Doctor spoke coaxingly. "Rosie?" he used Jack's nickname, hoping it would get through to her. "Can you hear me?"

"Doctor?" whispered Rose, her voice cracking.

"I'm here, Rose. I'm right here," he told her, pressing a kiss against the side of her head. "Let's get you back into bed, yeah?" he released her hands and slipped his arm under her knees before standing, cradling her against his chest. He walked back around the bed and started to put her down, but she clung to him. He noticed that she felt hot, and pressed his lips against her forehead. She was running a fever, and he bit back the urge to swear. He sat down on the bed himself, holding her close, positioned so she could hear his hearts beat.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor held Rose gently, trying not to exacerbate her injuries. He hummed under his breath, stroking her hair softly back from her face. Her sobs slowed, but she failed to loosen her death grip on his shirt.

"Rose?" he said softly. "I need to fix you up, okay?"

She nodded, snuffling, but snuggled closer to his chest.

"I have to put you down to do that," he tried to explain. Immediately she was shaking her head, grabbing him tightly. "Rose, you're running a fever," the Doctor said, even as he raised a hand to stroke her temple. "I'm sorry," he added, as he gently nudged her mind into sleep.

He laid her carefully on the bed, prying her fingers loose from his shirt. He quickly set up a new IV, hanging saline and morphine, then grabbed the blood analyser. He pressed it against Rose's wrist and waited till it beeped, then pulled it carefully away, its cool metal not even leaving a mark.

As he had suspected, there was bacteria in her blood stream. No clear cause, but with the number of injuries she had sustained, it wasn't really a surprise. He grabbed some antibiotics and injected them into the bag of saline so they would run in over time, and hung a medication from the twenty-third century that would take care of the fever.

While she was still in the state of peaceful, dreamless unconsciousness he had willed her to, he analysed the urine he had set aside. A small amount of blood, not enough to worry about, was the only thing out of the ordinary, so he disposed of the sample. He returned to the kitchen to find that the TARDIS had cleaned up his first attempt at toast and prepared a tray, with the spreads, juice and a plate for the toast that was sitting waiting for him.

He carried the tray back to the infirmary, setting it carefully on the bench at ran down one side of the white, sterile looking room. He crossed back over to Rose and carefully placed his fingertips on her temples, splaying the others down the sides of her face.

"Rose, it's time to wake up now," he told her gently. She moaned softly, eyelids fluttering, then opened to look up at him.

"Doctor? What happened?" she asked, confused.

"You were running a fever," he explained. "I'm sorry, Rose."

"Why?" she asked, confused.

"I left you alone in here, to go to the kitchen. You wouldn't have had the hallucination if I had been here."

Rose shuddered at the memory, but shook her head. "No, Doctor, you can't know that. It could have happened just as easily if you were here," she insisted. "Please don't blame yourself," she begged.

For her sake, the Doctor nodded. He knew that he would feel the guilt forever, but he refused to cause her further pain with it.

"Still thirsty?" he asked then, and she nodded. He lifted the head of the bed so she was sitting, then handed her the glass. She held it in two hands to steady it and sipped slowly. "What would you like on your toast?" he asked

"'m not hungry," she told him, taking another sip of juice.

"Just a little bit?" he coaxed, opening the strawberry jam, knowing it was her favorite. He spread it on one of the pieces and cut it into small squares. "Just one?"

Rose sighed, but took one of the small squares. She chewed it slowly, smiling slightly at the Doctor's grateful expression.

"Wha'...What about him?" she asked softly. "He can't be allowed..." she stopped and swallowed heavily, biting her lower lip, then continued "To do this to anyone else. He can't," she insisted. The Doctor nodded, rubbing her shoulder gently when she gulped.

"I'll take care of it," he assured her, his eyes going stormy. "But I'm gonna take care of you first," he added, eyes softening again. "Another piece?" he coaxed, holding the plate out towards her. She shot him a look, then took a piece, hand shaking slightly.

The Doctor kept coaxing and teasing until the whole plate was gone, then set it aside. "How are you feeling?" he asked, brushing his fingertips against her cheek, then resting his palm on her forehead to check her temperature. "Fever's down," he commented.

"Not too bad," she told him, leaning a little into his touch. He cupped her cheek, brushing the skin lightly with his thumb.

"These are healing well," he commented. "Swelling's almost completely gone. Another day or two and you won't be able to see it at all." He smiled sadly, then reached down with his other hand and pressed gently over her ribs. She took a sharp breath, but didn't pull away, and he could feel the healing fractures under his fingers. "These are doing nicely," he nodded, then reached down and carefully palpated over her liver. He pulled over the scanner and ran it over her abdomen, brow creasing in concentration.

"Wha'? Is something wrong?" asked Rose, nervous. After another moment, the Doctor put the scanner away, beaming at her.

"Nope," he replied, popping the 'p'. "Liver's healed up, looks good." He grinned. "How about we get you into some jimjams, huh?" he stood, and, crossing the room, grabbed a pair of pyjamas out of one of the cupboards. "Warm, fluffy, comfy jimjams?" he said, grinning teasingly at her.

Rose rolled her eyes at his antics, but nodded. The Doctor helped her slip the pants on, tying them loosely around her hips, then unhooked the IV from the stand and carefully put the bags through the right sleeve, then rehung them and helped her to get it over first one arm, then the other. She did the buttons herself, fingers shaking slightly as she pushed them through the holes.

"You should try to get some sleep," the Doctor told her, taking her hand in his. "The more you sleep, the faster you'll heal, and when you're well enough, I've got a surprise for you."

"What?" asked Rose, curious.

"If I told you, would it be a surprise any more?" he demanded, outraged. Rose grinned at him, tongue poking out between her teeth at his expression, and he grinned back. For a few moments it was like nothing had happened, as if things were exactly the way they always were, then she shifted on the pillows and winced in pain.

The Doctor quickly helped her adjust her position, then sat back, stroking her hand soothingly. "Sleep, Rose," he whispered, as her eyelids flickered. He started to hum again, borrowing a tune from an old English folk song, Early One Morning. Rose smiled, and drifted off, gripping his hand tightly.

As her grip slackened slowly, he took his hand gently from hers, and started to collect equipment. He pulled the sample out of the small fridge and fed part of it into the DNA extractor. He then fed the extracted DNA into the bio-tracker, and grinned ferally as it lit up. As soon as Rose was well and he could leave her alone for a while, he could find this guy, going to a point in his timeline before he could hurt anyone else, and he was going to make him hurt for what he'd done to his Rose.

The Doctor felt the rage of the Oncoming Storm wash over him as he remembered how Rose had looked in that alleyway, battered and bruised, clothing ripped. The pain of knowing that he could have prevented it, should have stopped it from happening, was almost worse than the pain of what had happened, and he allowed the rage to overtake it, to push the pain down so he could concentrate.

Once sure that he could find the guy at any point in time he wanted, he set the Bio-tracer aside, and started thinking again about what he could do with the guy once he had him. The rage that was running through his veins offered several new suggestions, and, now that he had a way of finding the guy and meting out immediate punishment, he could think in the long term. A sudden grin washed over his face; he knew the perfect place to take him, and Rose would definitely agree.

This guy would not be hurting anyone ever again, the Amazonian-type tribes on Rigel Six would take care of that; they had their own ways of dealing with rapists. In a society ruled by women, this monster would be treated fairly; that is to say, not well. A life of slavery under people who treated their slaves well enough, but still as slaves. That is to say, they got fed, if they worked. The Doctor nodded; it would give Rose the closure of knowing he was out of the way, give the Doctor the closure of knowing that he was suffering for what he had done, and hopefully allow them both to move on.

He sat back beside Rose, running a hand through his hair tiredly. He might be a Time Lord, but contrary to his occasional claims, he did require some sleep. A few hours every few days was all, but he'd been running on adrenaline and anger since this whole thing started, and was now a couple of days overdue. There was no way he was going to leave Rose alone again, so he stood and folded out the chair into a small camp-type bed. Grabbing a blanket from the cupboard, he removed his jacket and lay down.

He fell asleep almost instantly, very glad for once that he could choose not to dream.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

Rose struggled against the force that held her down, unable to move. She whimpered in fear as voices hissed and whispered in her ears, words indistinct. She couldn't move, and she struggled, trying to pull her hands free, to kick, to make any kind of noise. It felt as though she was completely swathed in some kind of soft yet unyielding substance, and she was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

She gasped and struggled, moaning deep in her throat. "Hold still, it's not that bad," one of the voices hissed. "If you struggle, you'll only make it worse," said another. "You need to learn your lesson," said a voice that sounded like the Doctor's.

"No," she tried to say as she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. "Stop it! Let me go! I learnt my lesson, leave me alone!" All that she could get out were hoarse grunts. She gasped for breath, feeling as though she was choking. Her chest burned as she gasped and struggled, tears running down her face.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

The Doctor woke suddenly, aware that Rose was speaking. Thinking at first that she was awake, he sat up, only to see her eyes closed as she tossed on the bed. "Stop it!" she sobbed helplessly. "Let me go! I learnt my lesson, leave me alone!" The words tore at the Doctor's hearts. She was gasping for breath, moaning as she tossed, arms flailing. He was on his feet beside her in an instant, hands cupping her face as he tried to wake her.

"Rose, it's just a dream, come on, Rose, wake up, come back to me," he called gently, loathe to enter her mind again. He stroked her cheek, then shook her shoulder gently. "Come on, Rose, it's time to wake up!" he called louder. Her eyes opened suddenly, and she stared at him wordlessly, eyes wide with pain and fear as she gasped for breath, clearly hyperventilating.

Concerned, the Doctor pressed firmly on the top of her rib cage. "Rose, breath slowly," he told her firmly, eyes on hers. "Breath with me, through your nose, in...now out. That's it, in, now out." He coached her until her breathing evened out and a measure of calm returned to her face. "Good girl," he told her, smiling gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Was just a dream," she told him, shaking her head. Her fear showed clearly in her eyes; she thought if she told him about it, he'd think she was weak.

"Rose, you've been through a horrible ordeal; the dreams are a natural physical and mental response, but talking about them will help," he told her, eyes pleading with her to open up to him.

Slowly, he drew the words out of her, even as he moved to sit beside her on the bed, cradling her in his lap. He stroked her hair, smoothed the tears away from her face and kissed her temple softly as she shook. When she finished describing the dream, she started, much more haltingly, to describe what had happened in the alleyway. The Doctor held her, offering silent encouragement. Before she started talking, he wouldn't have believed that he could feel more rage and hate for the man who had attacked her, but as she described his words and actions, he was proven wrong.

Rose's trust warmed his hearts, and he forced the rage he felt down, easily, for her sake, as he showed her his love and compassion. When it was over, she clung to him, worn out from the emotional and physical ordeal. She was still shaking, and the Doctor pulled the blanket up around her, even as he raised his own internal temperature to be a few degrees higher than hers, and pulled her up against his chest to make the most of it.

Something occurred to him suddenly, and he reached one hand down to feel over her healing ribs. He sighed with relief when he felt them still in place; he was concerned that she had messed them about as she dreamed.

She looked up at him, eyes heavy with sleep as she watched. "What'ya doin?" she asked, with mild curiosity.

"Just checking they didn't get messed about while you were struggling," he explained gently. "You think you can get some more sleep?" he asked.

"Hold me?" she asked, looking like a lost little girl.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, pulling her slightly higher against his chest. She curled into him, eyelids already drooping, and soon dropped off, breath hot through his shirt.

She slept calmly, lulled by his warmth and his hearts. He sat, stroking her hair and considering the great gift she had given him, her total trust in him, her sharing of the pain that went right to her very soul. It humbled him, that she would trust him so completely, even as it showed him that he could help her and she would get through this, not the same, but stronger and more beautiful, like gold that has passed through a furnace.

She should be well enough by the morning for the short trip to Adis Ababa (the planet, not the city), an uninhabited paradise, at least for the next millennium. He thought of the incredible beauty he would be able to show her, the dolphin-like creatures that populated the seas, the waterfalls and beautiful jungle. It was the perfect place for her to heal, he was sure.


End file.
